Silent Tears
by Farai V1
Summary: Harry is sent to Azkaban for a crime he didn't commit. It's a mistake that will cost the entire wizarding world dearly. Cunning!Voldemort. Scarred!Harry. Bashing of certain Weasleys. A little Hermione bashing. Squib discrimination. Slow and character driven plot. Very sad story. Dark themes: mentions of suicide and insanity. Post GoF. Pairing unclear, suggestions accepted.


_**Hey, guys. How are you doing? Good? Great! I decided to give this fic another shot and make it a little more detailed and accurate. If you have stumbled on this story before than I'm sure you've noticed some of the grave mistakes I made, like Harry calling Remus 'Professor'. Sorry about that. I recently reread Azkaban after a while and just loved it so much that it slipped into the story. No mistakes like that again. I hope you're ready for a VERY different kind of Harry-is-sentenced-to-Azkaban story. Now that a have a proper laptop, I am going to write pretty long chapters for this story (6000 words or higher) for your entertainment.**_

 _ **A little heads up to those who are just dying to get an update on my other stories. Here is a list of stories that I will be updating shortly (a few days from now):**_

 _ **Counselling II**_

 _ **Hopeful (I know a lot of people who have been begging me to complete this one).**_

 _ **The Last Horcrux: War Rising**_

 _ **Harry Potter and the Distorted Reality**_

 _ **Get Johnny! (This one is more of an if-I-feel-like-it kinda thing).**_

* * *

Harry could not help but feel a little proud, even though he had never intended for it be this way.

He never entered his name into the Goblet for the Triwizard Cup, but in the end it gave him an opportunity to grow and become stronger; fighting Dragons, saving his friends from drowning, and finally finding his way out of the damn maze that had repeatedly tried to harm him. He had not intended to run into Cedric or work together to get to the cup, but it happened. They stood next to each other, far eager to end this race once and for all.

Harry valiantly hid his disappointment at not being the only true Triwizard Champion. But he didn't really mind to share the title with Cedric, adding to the fact that he was a fellow Hogwarts only seemed to make the victory all the sweeter.

Too bad that the hole tournament was a trap to lure him to Voldemort. Everything derailed to chaos then. Cedric was killed, right in front of his straining eyes and he was powerless to stop it. Voldemort used his blood to make himself whole and it was clear as day that the Dark Ages was upon the wizarding world once again.

Harry felt the slight tug of the cup as he grabbed it in desperation, clutching Cedric's lifeless body in his other arm. The next thing he knew, he was back at Hogwarts.

He landed in a heap on the floor. He was surrounded by a crowd of people, evidently there to cheer at their new Triwizard Champion. The moment they saw him and a very dead Cedric Diggory, there were no cheers, no; only screams of pure horror and grief.

Harry, too exhausted from his battle with Voldemort to think and take rational action, merely buried his head on Cedric's chest, trying his best to come to terms with what he had been through as he sobbed profusely on the fallen Hufflepuff student.

He didn't have time before he was hauled to his feet and dragged away by Moody.

Everything after that was a blur; Moody not being Moody, but Barty Crouch Jnr.; being forced to tell everyone that came to his rescue that Voldemort had returned; watching in bewilderment as he was met with incredulous stares and befuddled questions.

Fudge didn't even bother to listen to any of them, firmly believing that Harry had actually done the deed and killed an innocent boy, using Voldemort as a pretence to cover his crimes. Dumbledore was able to come to his rescue, forcing Cornelius to somewhat recant his assumptions.

Harry had no idea why, but he was under suspicion not just from Fudge, but a lot of other people. Dumbledore had cast him a shadow of doubt when he explained what he had been through when the Triwizard Cup whisked him away to an unknown graveyard. The Headmaster seemed reproachful of the idea that Tom was at full strength, but Harry supposed that since Dumbledore defended him against Fudge, then the Headmaster must have decided to put his faith in him.

Then there were Cedric's parents. They told him that they didn't blame him for their child's death, but Harry felt like their statement was forced. Even when he offered them his winnings, he could see resentment in their eyes as they 'politely' refused. He didn't blame them. He felt responsible for Cedric's death, too.

Aside from that, his friends fully believed him. On Ron's side, it felt like he was still trying to make up for being a prat during the tournament. Hermione didn't question it. She believed him without a shadow of a doubt.

He was grateful to them and the Weasleys, because people outside that circle were content to believe that he was actually 'The Heir of Slytherin' or 'Voldemort II'. They were wary of him. Hufflepuff House actually disliked him even more, not believing the farce of He-who-shall-not-be-named, even if the news came out of Dumbledore's mouth.

Harry found himself with less friends and more enemies as he, once again, spent another summer with the dreaded Dursleys. Nothing much had changed since the years he knew them. Petunia still treated him like a plague that was spoiling their perfect family image. Vernon just didn't want him around. Dudley, well, he was still an idiot and turning out to be a much more disgusting bully than Harry pegged him for.

He was in a park, a few blocks from his home, when Dudley stalked him down. Harry was still dealing with the fact that Voldemort was out there and that nobody was safe anymore. Dudley made his already foul mood worse with his attempt to bully him again.

Harry was irritated and tempted to hex the big oaf. However, two Dementors forced a sudden haste for duel escape. Dudley had no idea why he was so scared, but Harry did. Unlike his cousin, he could see the flying soul eaters coming from far away.

He acted quickly to save Dudley from being kissed, casting his Patronus Charm with everything he had. He hated Dudley with a passion, but even he wouldn't want the guy dying on his watch. Vernon and Petunia would surely blame him without pause for the death of their son.

He felt unsafe in the alleyway that he found himself in after his run from the Dementors. Dudley was unconscious just a few metres from him, still in shock from the Dementor's attack. Harry sighed. He was tempted to leave Dudley to his own devices. But that wasn't the type of person he was. He wouldn't feel right acting like that.

He started approaching his prone cousin, but he didn't take two steps before he heard a sinister hiss.

"Stupify."

It was said from behind him, and Harry had no time to react. He was knocked out cold in the next second.

* * *

When Harry woke up, it was dark. The alley looked like the perfect spot for any criminal to use as a hideout.

He groaned, feeling his head hurt just a bit. There was a lingering sensation on his scar, and Harry brushed it off and groggily got to his feet. He looked around, wondering how long he was out.

Dudley was still where he was before, in the same position.

Harry shook his head, surprised that the idiot hadn't woken up and run off already. He walked over to him, ready to just shake him to consciousness. But as soon as he stood over him, Harry froze.

The hair on the back of his neck stood straight. His eyes widened and his mouth opened with no sound.

Glassy eyes stared above. There was no indication of breathing: the chest was still. It was a clear indication for anyone stumbling on the scene.

Dudley Dursley was dead on sight.

Harry could not believe it. He just couldn't. It seemed like something out of horror movie.

He crashed to his knees and grabbed Dudley's shoulders, inadvertently squeezing them as he shook his cousin frantically.

"DUDLEY! DUDLEY, WAKE UP!"

Harry was hysterical. He could not comprehend what he was seeing. A part of him wanted to refute the very notion of another person dying in the span of a few months.

What could he do? How could he even begin to break the news to Vernon and Petunia? They would blame him, they would.

Worse yet, he had no idea how this happened. He was attacked, by a wizard, and said wizard must have finished Dudley off.

It was a terrible revelation. It forced him to act out and run to Privet Drive.

He had a sinking feeling in his stomach. Something told him that Dudley wasn't the only target.

No matter how horribly she treated him, Petunia was still his aunt by blood - the only blood relative he had left. He was not about to lose that; he just couldn't.

As he approached his home, he noticed two cloaked figures outside the house. He, at first, thought that he might be dealing with Death Eaters. He drew his wand, hid it behind him and carefully approached.

He didn't know if he was dealing with friend or foe. Honestly, the wizarding world made it really hard to trust strangers.

One of them was a tall black man. He wore a small hat that barely covered his head. He looked serious, all business.

The other person Harry recognised. It was Moody, the real Moody. Harry immediately felt relaxed.

They spotted him.

"Harry Potter. My name is Kingsley Shacklebolt, an Auror from the Ministry. I'm sure you're familiar with Alastor Moody."

Harry nodded, not sure what else to say.

"Would you mind coming with us to the Ministry, laddie?" Moody asked a bit too roughly.

Harry was still confused on what was going on. Dudley had died and now two people from the Ministry had shown up. He was on edge.

"W-what's going on?" he asked nervously.

Kingsley and Moody shared a look; it was very brief.

"We need to ask you a few questions," Kingsley said.

"I can't leave. Dudley's dead. I think he was killed by Death Eaters!"

Kingsley's eyes widened just a fraction. "Death Eaters?"

Moody only stared hard at Harry.

"Yes!" Harry screamed, a bit frantic. "I need to tell my aunt and uncle. I need to get them to safety."

Kingsley's eyes grew cold. He shared another look with Moody and said, "Come with us. We'll deal with your aunt and uncle."

"Dumbledore needs to see you immediately," Alastor added.

Harry paused his retort. Dumbledore, of course. Yes, the Headmaster was just the person to talk to. He was so confused, still emotionally exhausted from internally grieving. He nodded then, allowing them to escort him. He was a bit apprehensive as they actually walked behind him, but didn't really say anything about it.

"We're going to apparate. Although you're not old enough, the Ministry has given permission for this circumstance. We're not going all the way, but somewhere close enough."

That... didn't make sense. From the way Moody phrased it, it seemed like there was a lot more going on than he knew.

He jumped slightly when he felt both men grab either of his shoulders and the next thing he knew, he was staring straight at a telephone booth.

It looked a bit out of place and well-unkempt. It seemed obvious that no one used it.

Kingsley walked in first and motioned for Harry to follow him.

Harry nervously looked at Moody, unsure of what to do or make of the situation. Apparating for the first time had made him dizzy, but his uncertainty was at the forefront.

"It's alright. Go in with him," Moody responded, sensing his doubt.

He followed and squeezed right in with Kingsley. It was somewhat a tight fit, and Harry found himself afraid to move.

Kingsley swiftly dialled a few numbers on the payphone and waited.

Harry looked behind him. He noticed Moody was looking around apprehensively, as if prepared for an ambush.

He was startled when he heard a cool woman's voice reverberate inside the booth.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

"Kingsley Shacklebolt, Auror Head. Special clearance given to one Harry James Potter under Code Twelve. Location: Auror Headquarters - Interrogations."

"Thank you," the female said. "Mr. Potter, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robe."

A badge slid out if the chute of the phone. Harry, more confused than ever, hesitantly took the badge and pinned it on his shirt. He didn't bother to look at what was written on it.

Kingsley shuffled out of the booth quickly. He looked at Harry sternly. "They'll be someone there to pick you up. Moody and I still have some investigating to do."

"My aunt and uncle?"

"Yes."

"Mr. Potter, you are required to immediately head to the Auror Headquarters, level two in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," the woman's voice cut in.

Harry was still processing what he'd been told when the ground underneath him started swallowing him up. He panicked a bit when his world turned black. It took about another minute for bright light to suddenly blind him.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day," said the woman's voice.

The door to the telephone box sprang open.

Harry didn't have the time to take everything in before he felt someone grab his hand pull him onwards.

When his eyes adjusted, he could immediately tell who it was.

"Mr. Weasley?" he asked, surprised.

Arthur looked straight ahead of him. Harry could see that his face was tight.

"We need to be quick, Harry," was all he said during the trip. But the slight anger in his voice was not lost either.

* * *

Harry looked around him. The room he was situated in was dark and gloomy. There was nothing inside of it aside from a table and two chairs. There were no windows, merely a mirror which Harry was certain that people were watching him through it.

He was seated, alone.

What the hell was going on? He could not make heads or tails of his predicament. Things were just moving too fast in his opinion. He calmed himself down, awaiting who would come and see him.

He waited for what felt like an eternity when, finally, the only door to the room opened and in walked Moody and Arthur Weasley.

Moody immediately walked to the corner wall opposite Harry. He got comfortable and stared straight at Harry. His eye seemed to probe at his soul, very accusatory, very alert.

Arthur occupied the only other seat in the room. He looked tired, like had been running a marathon. He looked at Harry in a calculated manner.

"Hello, Harry," Arthur said.

"Hello, Mr. Weasley. Is Professor Dumbledore still on his way?" Harry asked.

Arthur looked surprised. He turned to Alastor, who nodded his head at him.

Arthur focused on Harry. "Before I answer that, can I ask you something?"

Harry nodded.

"What form does your Patronus take?"

Although thrown off by the question, Harry recovered quickly, desperate for an explanation. "A stag, why?"

Arthur sighed in what seemed like relief. "Remus was right. It's him, Moody."

Moody nodded roughly, accepting the statement.

"Harry, there's a lot going on right now and we really don't have a lot of time. Dumbledore is on his way, but until he arrives, the Ministry requested that I come and get answers from you about today."

Harry frowned at Author. Something didn't seem right.

"Harry... where were you this afternoon?"

"I was with Dudley, my cousin, a few blocks away from the Dursley's house."

"And you were with... Dudley the entire time?"

Now Harry felt like he was getting somewhere.

"Yes, I was attacked and knocked unconscious until it was dark. When I woke up..."

He clamped up. The thought that Dudley died on his watch hurt more than he thought it would. He never actually thought he would feel so terrible about losing someone equally horrendous. But he did; he felt the lump in his throat and the sting of tears in his eyes. He bowed his head, struggling to keep his composure.

Arthur looked nervously at Moody. But Mad-Eye continued to stare at Harry indifferently, unfazed by his distraught display.

Arthur sighed again.

"Harry, please continue," Mr. Weasley coaxed.

After some time, Harry was able to gather himself. His sorrowful eyes stared at his Professor. "Dudley was killed."

"By who?!" Moody interrogated.

Startled at the shout, Harry shrunk a little. He felt extremely uncomfortable.

"I... I think it was a Death Eater. I couldn't see who it was. They attacked me from behind."

Moody narrowed his eye.

Arthur shook his head, as if disappointed.

"Potter," Moody growled, "care to explain why your wand had been registered to have discharged magic today?"

Harry frowned at the way Moody spoke to him. "Dudley and I were attacked by Dementors. I had to use a Patronus to save him."

Why did it feel like he was some kind of target for scrutiny? He remembered Author taking his wand the moment he came into the interrogation room. He thought it was normal then, but now he was completely unsure.

"And that was the only time you _used_ it?" Arthur stressed, slightly desperate.

Harry nodded at him. "After I saved Dudley, someone stupified me from behind."

Arthur nodded, although it seemed stiff and forced. "Okay... I see. Harry, according to a report we've gotten from The Improper Use of Magic Office, your wand was used four times today alone."

Harry froze in place, slowly processing the words.

"Four times?" he asked after a pregnant pause.

"Yes, boy, four times," Moody confirmed. "They couldn't discern what spells were cast, but they could confirm estimated times your wand was used."

"But... I only cast one spell. I'm sure of it. Dudley and I were in danger. We had two Dementors after us!"

"I find that hard to believe, boy. Dementors are controlled by the Ministry. They don't just run amuck anywhere without consent. Are you insinuating that the Ministry actually send Dementors after you?"

Harry glared at Moody. "I'm not insinuating anything! I'm just telling you what happened!"

"Harry, calm down," Arthur said gently.

Harry didn't. "What's going on here? Why am I being treated like this - like I did something wrong?"

"Then how about you explain why your aunt and uncle were found dead, in their car, just a few blocks from their house?"

The silence was like a thickening vice.

"... What?"

Arthur was glaring at Moody. "You could have put it a little gently!"

Moody snorted. "What's the point? He probably already knew about it."

Harry couldn't hear anything. There was this whistling sound in his ears. His mind had gone completely blank as he took in the news. They were all dead. His entire, horrible family were dead. If he had been cruel, he would have whooped for joy. But he wasn't the type of person. He felt like a part of him died with them.

"How?" he croaked, finding it difficult to grasp at any feeling.

"We assume that it was due to the Killing Curse. The same goes for the Dudley kid," Moody said.

"Harry, please," Arthur looked very old for his age. "If there's something you want to say, now is the time. There's no one else but you, me and Moody. You can confide in us. Please, Harry."

He was obviously lying. Harry could practically feel the gazes on him coming from the two-way mirror next to him. Not only that, he could immediately guess as to where this conversation was headed. He couldn't believe it. He had not received any letters from his friends, the Dursleys were dead and now he was a suspect.

Fate just loved to screw with him and he didn't like it.

"I didn't kill them!" Harry said, almost yelled. He was upset that they could ever think that of him.

"Damn it, boy, don't make this difficult now! Your wand places you at every scene of the crime! Witnesses have admitted to seeing you with the Dursleys before they died!"

Harry was caught off guard, but scowled nonetheless. "What witnesses?"

Those words only seemed to reinforce the men's suspicions.

"We'll get to that soon. Tell us now; did you or did you not kill the Dursleys because of your hatred for them?" Moody asked, eyes daring Harry to argue.

"I did not! I've never killed anyone in my life!"

Moody scoffed at him. "What about Cedric Diggory?"

Harry's mouth hung open for a long time, becoming increasingly dry.

"You... you think I killed Cedric?"

"In light of this... I'm sorry, Harry, but we can't just take your word for it," Arthur said, torn.

"What?!" Harry yelled, feeling indignant. "So you don't believe me?"

"..."

Mr. Weasley merely shook his head and apologised again. It was a crushing blow to Harry.

"Is there anything else you want to say, Potter?" Moody asked.

Harry stared at Arthur with so much hurt that the old Weasley felt too uncomfortable to sit still.

He stood up. "I'll go get your wand."

The man was gone before anyone could blink.

Moody strutted till he stood over the seated Potter. His good eye measured him.

He waited for Harry to answer his earlier question, but soon gave up the notion.

"You're free to go. Mr. Weasley will be at the Ministry gates to pick you up shortly."

The was... very abrupt. Harry took a good look at him. The situation change jarred him.

"That's it?" Harry asked. He couldn't help the little hope that escaped his voice. He needed time to figure out what position his was under; who really killed Dudley, Vernon and Petunia; if he was somehow being made to take the fall for it all. He needed to work quickly to peace everything together, before it was too late.

"For now. But be prepared to be put on trial next week, though. If the investigation we conduct is inconclusive to anything other than underaged use of magic, then you will be tried for that and nothing else, laddie. Now get up."

As soon as Harry stood up, Dumbledore conveniently walked into the room. His eyes still held their twinkle and he greeted Harry as usual. "Hello, Harry. I hope that your stay here hasn't been too uncomfortable for your liking?"

Trying to keep things in the room civil, Harry shook his head. "No, Headmaster."

"That's good to hear, Harry. Please follow me to Mr. Weasley."

Harry had immediate suspicion that the Headmaster should be the first person he questioned for answers. Surely, Dumbledore would be more than willing to shed some light on the state of matters.

"But... my wand?"

"There is no need to worry. You'll get your wand then."

Harry wanted answers, but thought better of asking them at the Ministry. He obediently followed Dumbledore, a little relieved to have some breathing space.

He had no idea that his troubles had only just reached the tip of the iceberg.

* * *

Emily Sunday sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time. She looked at the copious amount of paper on her desk with dread. Making another sound of disgust, she briefly adjusted her black robe to make sure that it was straight. She adjusted her brown hair, which was put together in a ponytail, with two bangs framing her enticingly gorgeous round face – with a cute button nose and alluring blue eyes. The white dress she wore for work was enclosed by the robe, but occasionally peaked through when she shifted her weight on her seat abruptly. The twenty-year-old woman was in her prime.

She turned to the person next to her, who was also very busy working at her own workstation. Said person glanced back at her, frowned in apparent displeasure, and busied herself again.

' _Great, another magically inclined idiot,'_ Emily thought, annoyed herself. She couldn't really blame the other woman for disliking her. Stupid people were entitled to think stupid things.

Her workplace wasn't too big, just the right fit for her to have the bare necessities on her desk. She was surrounded by a few more desks. They were all lined up in a sort of maze fashion. The cubicle situated at the very end housed the leader of the office.

Emily blew hair out of her face. Before she began as an intern for the Ministry of Magic, she had been excited at the prospect. She honestly never thought she would be given the chance to work in such a distinguished place, among the most respected people in the wizarding world. Now, however, she was starting to realise that readily accepting any position the Ministry gave her was a costly mistake.

She looked around again, watching as different witches hurriedly dealt with their own work. Some were running in and out of the office, seemingly to get paperwork approved or collect information from other division of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

' _Next time, Emily, when you get a letter saying you've been accepted to work as an intern in the Ministry of Magic, you better bloody well ask what position and which field!'_

Emily pouted and dutifully got back to her paperwork.

The front door of the office opened and Emily mentally cringed at the sight of the newcomer.

Dolores Umbridge, Leader of the Improper Use of Magic Office, walked at her leisure.

Emily really hated that the same woman was the one overseeing her internship. She would have second guessed her decision to work with the Ministry if she had known she would be put in the same office as that infuriating toad.

Dolores was an absolute slave driver. When she requested something out of Emily, it never related to work. It was always, 'Fetch me this, get me that. Where is my suit I ordered you to retrieve, you useless little girl!'. Emily thanked Merlin that her patience could stretch on for miles.

She was a little glad when she saw that Umbridge wasn't the only person who arrived in the office.

Amelia Bones, with all her authority, walked in as well.

The two seemed to be bickering with each other, with Dolores looking more aggravated.

"Madam Bones," Dolores stressed the name like it tasted dirty, "I understand your concern and intent to supervise my office, but I do not see any reason to do so."

Amelia raised an eyebrow at her, not really affected by the short woman's show of disrespect. "As Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, I am entitled to oversee any division within it if I feel it needs to be done. I do not need to remind you where your office stands."

Umbridge's brow twitched in disdain. She scoffed and walked on into her cubicle. "If you see it fit, who am I to argue?"

She slammed her door shut.

Amelia shook her head in disapproval. Her gaze swiftly turned to Emily.

"Ms. Sunday, may I see you in my office?"

Emily felt like she'd been shot. Everyone in the room was looking her way now; some had pleased looks on their faces, others merely looked on with indifference.

"Y-yes, Madam!" Emily stuttered, cursing herself for getting awkward. Amelia was a very intimidating figure.

She hastily followed Amelia out of the Improper Use of Magic Office and into her own office room.

She was told to take a seat and did so hastily. She briefly looked around. Madam Bones' office was quite clean and organised. She also noticed a photo of her and someone who seemed to be her daughter on her table.

Amelia sat across Emily. Her hard eyes softened when she noticed Emily's nervousness.

"It's alright, Emily. You don't have to be frightened of me."

Emily's head whipped in her direction. She chuckled nervously, saying, "O-oh, no. It's not like that… Okay, maybe a little."

"Well, we're here alone in my office. You can relax; we don't have to be formal."

Emily gratefully did so, letting her shoulder sag.

Once satisfied, Amelia took out a few papers from her left drawer. She skimmed through them to make she sure they were correct.

"How has your stay been so far?" she asked distractedly, still busy working on the papers.

"Nothing really to complain about. I just wished I knew what I'd actually be doing if I did become an intern."

Amelia stopped her rummaging and stared at Emily with a frown.

"You don't like your current occupation?"

"Not to sound ungrateful, but no."

"What did you think you would be doing when you came to the Ministry?"

"… Working for you, hopefully?"

"Ah, I see. I do apologise, but you cannot be permitted to work under me. I'm a department head; we don't do internships, unless under special conditions."

"Wish somebody told me that sooner."

"If you don't like your current position, I'd be more than happy to rec-"

"No, no! It's fine, Madam! I'm pretty sure I was lucky just to be given the chance."

Amelia's eyes turned poignant at the statement.

"Emily… are you _really_ sure this is what you want to pursue? To be frank, it would be tremendously easier for you to work in a muggle environment."

Emily's mouth thinned and she frowned in discontent. "Because I'm a Squib, right?"

"There is no other reason I'd be telling you this."

Amelia raised a paper in her hand and looked at it, even as she spoke.

"You're a hard working girl. Your _S.E.A.L.s_ are the highest recorded in your Academy. Everything is exceptional. You would thrive in the muggle world."

"But wouldn't in the wizarding world," Emily finished stiffly.

"There's just not enough incentive for you to stay. You know how Squibs are treated. I think I've talked to you about this three times now."

"With all due respect, Madam, what makes you think this time will make a difference?"

"This time, I'm not going to tiptoe around the subject. I'm going to be forthright with you."

Emily nodded. "Go ahead."

Amelia smirked. "So you're giving me orders now?"

Emily sputtered an apology, causing Amelia to chuckle.

"It's perfectly fine. Now, you are aware that I approved this internship because of Henriette Oakby's insistence?"

"Yes, and thank you so much, Madam. I-"

Amelia put a hand up to stop Emily further. "I did it because I deemed it fair. Although the Ministry's system does not openly recognised S.E.A.L.s like it does N.E.W.T.s– since S.E.A.L is a recently implemented qualification – I felt it right to give you at least an opportunity since you did extremely well."

"… It must have been difficult for you to let me in here."

"Very," Amelia confirmed. "Squibs are not recognised in the Ministry database, so therefore, according to the Ministry, you do _not_ exist. It took a lot of paperwork and approval just to get you in _any_ available space here. The Society for the Support of Squibs can only go so far as to vouch for you. You would need the Minister's approval in order for anything to actually take place."

"I trust that was even more difficult."

"Quite the contrary," Amelia said, ghost of a smile on her face. "When I went into Minister Fudge's office and asked if he could sign your approval notice, he was too busy to even pry on the details."

Emily's eyes widened, surprised at the older woman's cunning. "Wow."

"Yes, I won't make a habit of using his distraction to my advantage."

"You went through so much for me. I don't know what to say. I don't think a thanks is enough."

"It's plenty enough, Emily."

"Thank you… I'm not going to make it into the Ministry, am I?"

Amelia loathed to see anyone saddened at what they couldn't change.

"I don't think so, dear. The stigma surrounding Squibs is just too great. People will do everything in their power to make sure that you don't make it in here. You'd make history if you did, and there are positions in the Ministry that don't necessarily need magic, but it would be hard convincing the Minister, plus the rest of the Wizengamot."

Emily emitted a dry chuckle. "The funny thing is that's what I wanted to be when I grew up, ever since I was nine. I wanted to be involved in creating laws that benefit the entire wizarding world, not just the selected witches and wizards. It's unfair that this world hates Squibs so much."

"Yes, it is unfair. But It's a reality you need to deal with," Amelia said matter-of-factly.

Emily allowed herself some time to process the words. Her head was bowed and her shoulder's sagged further downward.

Amelia offered the young woman and sympathetic hold on her shoulder. "I'm really sorry, Emily. I know how much you wanted this."

Emily sniffed, trying valiantly not to cry. "Yeah…"

Amelia allowed Emily some time to gather herself. She knew nothing she said now would cheer her up. She had read all the letters that Emily wrote in her school days. Her dreams were to be part of the Ministry, specifically the Wizengamot. Her end goal was to be the first Squib Minister for Magic. But Amelia could already tell just from that that Emily's goals would never be reached. You could not be Minister for Magic if you don't have any magic in you to begin with. Of course, being a part of the Wizengamot was realistically possible, but unattainable. And there were devastating consequences for Emily if she somehow did land a job at the Ministry. Amelia didn't like it, but it was for the girl's own good that she joined muggle society. The wizarding world was not a place for her.

"… I can't leave this place," Emily sniffled as she looked at Amelia. "I can't go and live among muggles. I was born here. My heritage is here. Going away means giving all that up. That's… so cruel. This world is disgusting."

Amelia sighed. "Yes… it is."

Emily stood up and wiped her face. She didn't look at Amelia.

"So what do I do? Do I go home?"

"If you want, but you can still continue to work here as an intern until your time is up."

"Might as well continue. I like to finish what I started," Emily said, a little brighter. But Amelia could still read the utter devastation on the woman's face.

"Let me know if you need anything," Amelia offered softly.

Emily smiled brightly at her. "I will."

The young woman exited Madam Bones' office.

Why did the wizarding world hate her so much? What did she do to deserve it? It wasn't fair at all that she had to be looked down on just because she was a Squib. For a world that promoted equality and fairness among all in it, it was downright nasty to Squibs.

' _Fucking hypocrites, the lot of them.'_

As she walked through the corridor, heading straight back to her allocated office, she could see something at the corner of her eye.

It was none other than Harry Potter, being led away by a man with bright red hair.

' _What's Harry Potter doing in the Ministry?'_ Emily asked herself.

Did the Boy-who-lived have any business at the Ministry at all? Was he given special clearance to enter because of who he was. It seemed likely.

 _'He didn't look so good,'_ she noted. In fact, he looked ghostly pale, like he had been through some tremendous struggle.

' _If it's anything like what Mrs. Figg told me, then it must be something else that was forced on him.'_

Little did Emily know, she would cross paths with him again.

* * *

 _ **Trivia:**_

 _ **S.E.A.L – Squib Exams of Associated Learning.**_

 _ **Henriette Oakby is the daughter of Idris Oakby - founder of the Society for the Support of Squibs.**_

 _ **...**_

 _ **How did you like it? I had to change a few things in order to make it more believable and relatable. Let me know what you think. Next chapter is the trial of Harry Potter. Trust me, you don't wanna miss that one.**_


End file.
